that the quarrel between the two religions should be decided by a
chosen number of the bravest soldiers of each army. Kerbogha turned
from him with a look of contempt, and said he could agree to no
proposals from a set of such miserable beggars and robbers. With this
uncourteous answer Peter returned to Antioch. Preparations were
immediately commenced for an attack upon the enemy: the latter
continued to be perfectly well informed of all the proceedings of the
Christian camp. The citadel of Antioch, which remained in their
possession, overlooked the town, and the commander of the fortress
could distinctly see all that was passing within. On the morning of the
28th of June 1098 a black flag, hoisted from its highest tower,
announced to the besieging army that the Christians were about to sally
forth.
The Moslem leaders knew the sad inroads that famine and disease had
made upon the numbers of the foe: they knew that not above two hundred
of the knights had horses to ride upon, and that the foot soldiers were
sick and emaciated; but they did not know the almost incredible valour
which superstition had infused into their hearts. The story of the
lance they treated with the most supreme contempt, and, secure of an
easy victory, they gave themselves no trouble in preparing for the
onslaught. It is related that Kerbogha was playing a game at chess,
when the black flag on the citadel gave warning of the enemy's
approach, and that, with true oriental coolness, he insisted upon
finishing the game ere he bestowed any of his attention upon a foe so
unworthy. The defeat of his advanced post of two thousand men aroused
him from his apathy.
The crusaders, after this first victory, advanced joyfully towards the
mountains, hoping to draw the Turks to a place where their cavalry
would be unable to manoeuvre. Their spirits were light and their
courage high, as led on by the Duke of Normandy, Count Robert of
Flanders, and Hugh of Vermandois, they came within sight of the
splendid camp of the enemy. Godfrey of Bouillon and Adhemar, Bishop of
Puy, followed immediately after these leaders, the latter clad in
complete armour, and bearing the Holy Lance within sight of the whole
army: Bohemund and Tancred brought up the rear.
Kerbogha, aware at last that his enemy was not so despicable, took
vigorous measures to remedy his mistake, and, preparing himself to meet
the Christians in front, he despatched the Sultan Soliman, of Roum, to
attack them in the rear. To conceal this movement, he set fire to the
dried weeds and grass with which the ground was covered, and Soliman,
taking a wide circuit with his cavalry, succeeded, under cover of the
smoke, in making good his position in the rear. The battle raged
furiously in front; the arrows of the Turks fell thick as hail, and
their well-trained squadrons trod the crusaders under their hoofs like
stubble. Still the affray was doubtful; for the Christians had the
advantage of the ground, and were rapidly gaining upon the enemy, when
the overwhelming forces of Soliman arrived in the rear. Godfrey and
Tancred flew to the rescue of Bohemund, spreading dismay in the Turkish
ranks by their fierce impetuosity. The Bishop of Puy was left almost
alone with the Provencals to oppose the legions commanded by Kerbogha
in person; but the presence of the Holy Lance made a hero of the
meanest soldier in his train. Still, however, the numbers of the enemy
seemed interminable. The Christians, attacked on every side, began at
last to give way, and the Turks made sure of victory.
At this moment a cry was raised in the Christian host that the saints
were fighting on their side. The battle-field was clear of the smoke
from the burning weeds, which had curled away, and hung in white clouds
of fantastic shape on the brow of the distant mountains. Some
imaginative zealot, seeing this dimly through the dust of the battle,
called out to his fellows, to look at the army of saints, clothed in
white, and riding upon white horses, that were pouring over the hills
to the rescue. All eyes were immediately turned to the distant smoke;
faith was in every heart; and the old battle-cry, God wills it! God
wills it! resounded through the field, as every soldier, believing that
God was visibly sending His armies to his aid, fought with an energy
unfelt before. A panic seized the Persian and Turkish hosts, and they
gave way in all directions. In vain Kerbogha tried to rally them. Fear
is more contagious than enthusiasm, and they fled over the mountains
like deer pursued by the hounds. The two leaders, seeing the
uselessness of further efforts, fled with the rest; and that immense
army was scattered over Palestine, leaving nearly seventy thousand of
its dead upon the field of battle.
Their magnificent camp fell into the hands of the enemy, with its rich
stores of corn, and its droves of sheep and oxen. Jewels, gold, and
rich velvets in abundance were distributed among the army. Tancred
followed the fugitives over the hills, and reaped as much plunder as
those who had remained in the camp. The way, as they fled, was covered
with valuables, and horses of the finest breed of Arabia became so
plentiful, that every knight of the Christians was provided with a
steed. The crusaders, in this battle, acknowledge to have lost nearly
ten thousand men.
Their return to Antioch was one of joy indeed: the citadel was
surrendered at once, and many of the Turkish garrison embraced the
Christian faith, and the rest were suffered to depart. A solemn
thanksgiving was offered up by the Bishop of Puy, in which the whole
army joined, and the Holy Lance was visited by every soldier.
The enthusiasm lasted for some days, and the army loudly demanded to be
led forward to Jerusalem, the grand goal of all their wishes: but none
of their leaders was anxious to move;--the more prudent among them,
such as Godfrey and Tancred, for reasons of expediency; and the more
ambitious, such as the Count of Toulouse and Bohemund, for reasons of
self-interest. Violent dissensions sprang up again between all the
chiefs. Raymond of Toulouse, who was left at Antioch to guard the town,
had summoned the citadel to surrender, as soon as he saw that there was
no fear of any attack upon the part of the Persians; and the other
chiefs found, upon their return, his banner waving on its walls. This
had given great offence to Bohemund, who had stipulated the
principality of Antioch as his reward for winning the town in the first
instance. Godfrey and Tancred supported his claim, and, after a great
deal of bickering, the flag of Raymond was lowered from the tower, and
that of Bohemund hoisted in its stead, who assumed from that time the
title of Prince of Antioch. Raymond, however, persisted in retaining
possession of one of the city gates and its adjacent towers, which he
held for several months, to the great annoyance of Bohemund and the
scandal of the army. The Count became in consequence extremely
unpopular, although his ambition was not a whit more unreasonable than
that of Bohemund himself, nor of Baldwin, who had taken up his quarters
at Edessa, where he exercised the functions of a petty sovereign.
The fate of Peter Barthelemy deserves to be recorded. Honours and
consideration had come thick upon him after the affair of the lance,
and he consequently felt bound in conscience to continue the dreams
which had made him a personage of so much importance. The mischief of
it was, that like many other liars he had a very bad memory, and he
contrived to make his dreams contradict each other in the most palpable
manner. St. John one night appeared to him, and told one tale, while, a
week after, St. Paul told a totally different story, and held out hopes
quite incompatible with those of his apostolic brother. The credulity
of that age had a wide maw, and Peter's visions must have been absurd
and outrageous indeed, when the very men who had believed in the lance
refused to swallow any more of his wonders. Bohemund at last, for the
purpose of annoying the Count of Toulouse, challenged poor Peter to
prove the truth of his story of the lance by the fiery ordeal. Peter
could not refuse a trial so common in that age, and being besides
encouraged by the Count and his chaplain, Raymond, an early day was
appointed for the ceremony. The previous night was spent in prayer and
fasting, according to custom, and Peter came forth in the morning
bearing the lance in his hand, and walked boldly up to the fire. The
whole army gathered round, impatient for the result, many thousands
still believing that the lance was genuine and Peter a holy man.
Prayers having been said by Raymond d'Agilles, Peter walked into the
flames, and had got nearly through, when pain caused him to lose his
presence of mind: the heat too affected his eyes, and, in his anguish,
he turned round unwittingly, and passed through the fire again, instead
of stepping out of it, as he should have done. The result was, that he
was burned so severely, that he never recovered, and, after lingering
for some days, he expired in great agony.
Most of the soldiers were suffering either from wounds, disease, or
weariness, and it was resolved by Godfrey,--the tacitly acknowledged
chief of the enterprize,--that the army should have time to refresh
itself ere they advanced upon Jerusalem. It was now July, and he
proposed that they should pass the hot months of August and September
within the walls of Antioch, and march forward in October with renewed
vigour, and numbers increased by fresh arrivals from Europe. This
advice was finally adopted, although the enthusiasts of the army
continued to murmur at the delay. In the mean time the Count of
Vermandois was sent upon an embassy to the Emperor Alexius at
Constantinople, to reproach him for his base desertion of the cause,
and urge him to send the reinforcements he had promised. The Count
faithfully executed his mission, (of which, by the way, Alexius took no
notice whatever,) and remained for some time at Constantinople, till
his zeal, never very violent, totally evaporated. He then returned to
France, sick of the Crusade, and determined to intermeddle with it no
more.
The chiefs, though they had determined to stay at Antioch for two
months, could not remain quiet for so long a time. They would, in all
probability, have fallen upon each other, had there been no Turks in
Palestine upon whom they might vent their impetuosity. Godfrey
proceeded to Edessa, to aid his brother Baldwin in expelling the
Saracens from his principality, and the other leaders carried on
separate hostilities against them as caprice or ambition dictated. At
length the impatience of the army to be led against Jerusalem became so
great that the chiefs could no longer delay, and Raymond, Tancred, and
Robert of Normandy marched forward with their divisions, and laid siege
to the small but strong town of Marah. With their usual improvidence,
they had not food enough to last a beleaguering army for a week. They
suffered great privations in consequence, till Bohemund came to their
aid and took the town by storm. In connexion with this siege, the
chronicler, Raymond d'Agilles, (the same Raymond, the chaplain, who
figured in the affair of the Holy Lance,) relates a legend, in the
truth of which he devoutly believed, and upon which Tasso has founded
one of the most beautiful passages of his poem. It is worth preserving,
as showing the spirit of the age and the source of the extraordinary
courage manifested by the crusaders on occasions of extreme difficulty.
"One day," says Raymond, "Anselme de Ribeaumont beheld young Engelram,
the son of the Count de St. Paul, who had been killed at Marsh, enter
his tent. 'How is it,' said Anselme to him, 'that you, whom I saw lying
dead on the field of battle, are full of life?'--'You must know,'
replied Engelram, 'that those who fight for Jesus Christ never
die.'--'But whence,' resumed Anselme, 'comes that strange brightness
that surrounds you?' Upon this Engelram pointed to the sky, where
Anselme saw a palace of diamond and crystal. 'It is thence,' said he,
'that I derive the beauty which surprises you. My dwelling is there; a
still finer one is prepared for you, and you shall soon come to inhabit
it. Farewell! we shall meet again to-morrow.' With these words Engelram
returned to heaven. Anselme, struck by the vision, sent the next
morning for the priests, received the sacrament; and although full of
health, took a last farewell of all his friends, telling them that he
was about to leave this world. A few hours afterwards, the enemy having
made a sortie, Anselme went out against them sword in hand, and was
struck on the forehead by a stone from a Turkish sling, which sent him
to heaven, to the beautiful palace that was prepared for him."
New disputes arose between the Prince of Antioch and the Count of
Toulouse with regard to the capture of this town, which were with the
utmost difficulty appeased by the other chiefs. Delays also took place
in the progress of the army, especially before Arches, and the soldiery
were so exasperated that they were on the point of choosing new leaders
to conduct them to Jerusalem. Godfrey, upon this, set fire to his camp
at Arches, and marched forward. He was immediately joined by hundreds
of the Provencals of the Count of Toulouse. The latter, seeing the turn
affairs were taking, hastened after them, and the whole host proceeded
towards the holy city, so long desired amid sorrow, and suffering, and
danger. At Emmaus they were met by a deputation from the Christians of
Bethlehem, praying for immediate aid against the oppression of the
infidels. The very name of Bethlehem, the birthplace of the Saviour,
was music to their ears, and many of them wept with joy to think they
were approaching a spot so hallowed. Albert of Aix informs us that
their hearts were so touched that sleep was banished from the camp, and
that, instead of waiting till the morning's dawn to recommence their
march, they set out shortly after midnight, full of hope and
enthusiasm. For upwards of four hours the mail-clad legions tramped
steadfastly forward in the dark, and when the sun arose in unclouded
splendour, the towers and pinnacles of Jerusalem gleamed upon their
sight. All the tender feelings of their nature were touched; no longer
brutal fanatics, but meek and humble pilgrims, they knelt down upon the
sod, and with tears in their eyes, exclaimed to one another,
"Jerusalem! Jerusalem!" Some of them kissed the holy ground, others
stretched themselves at full length upon it, in order that their bodies
might come in contact with the greatest possible extent of it, and
others prayed aloud. The women and children who had followed the camp
from Europe, and shared in all its dangers, fatigues, and privations,
were more boisterous in their joy; the former from long-nourished
enthusiasm, and the latter from mere imitation, [Guibert de Nogent
relates a curious instance of the imitativeness of these juvenile
crusaders. He says that, during the siege of Antioch, the Christian and
Saracen boys used to issue forth every evening from the town and camp
in great numbers under the command of captains chosen from among
themselves. Armed with sticks instead of swords, and stones instead of
arrows, they ranged themselves in battle order, and shouting each the
war-cry of their country, fought with the utmost desperation. Some of
them lost their eyes, and many became cripples for life from the
injuries they received on these occasions.] and prayed, and wept, and
laughed till they almost put the more sober to the blush.
The first ebullition of their gladness having subsided, the army
marched forward, and invested the city on all sides. The assault was
almost immediately begun; but after the Christians had lost some of
their bravest knights, that mode of attack was abandoned, and the army
commenced its preparations for a regular siege. Mangonels, moveable
towers, and battering rams, together with a machine called a sow, made
of wood, and covered with raw hides, inside of which miners worked to
undermine the walls, were forthwith constructed; and to restore the
courage and discipline of the army, which had suffered from the
unworthy dissensions of the chiefs, the latter held out the hand of
friendship to each other, and Tancred and the Count of Toulouse
embraced in sight of the whole camp. The clergy aided the cause with
their powerful voice, and preached union and goodwill to the highest
and the lowest. A solemn procession was also ordered round the city, in
which the entire army joined, prayers being offered up at every spot
which gospel records had taught them to consider as peculiarly sacred.
The Saracens upon the ramparts beheld all these manifestations without
alarm. To incense the Christians, whom they despised, they constructed
rude crosses, and fixed them upon the walls, and spat upon and pelted
them with dirt and stones. This insult to the symbol of their faith
raised the wrath of the crusaders to that height that bravery became
ferocity and enthusiasm madness. When all the engines of war were
completed the attack was recommenced, and every soldier of the
Christian army fought with a vigour which the sense of private wrong
invariably inspires. Every man had been personally outraged, and the
knights worked at the battering-rams with as much readiness as the
meanest soldiers. The Saracen arrows and balls of fire fell thick and
fast among them, but the tremendous rams still heaved against the
walls, while the best marksmen of the host were busily employed in the
several floors of the moveable towers in dealing death among the Turks
upon the battlements. Godfrey, Raymond, Tancred, and Robert of
Normandy, each upon his tower, fought for hours with unwearied energy,
often repulsed, but ever ready to renew the struggle. The Turks, no
longer despising the enemy, defended themselves with the utmost skill
and bravery till darkness brought a cessation of hostilities. Short was
the sleep that night in the Christian camp. The priests offered up
solemn prayers in the midst of the attentive soldiery for the triumph
of the Cross in this last great struggle, and as soon as morning dawned
every one was in readiness for the affray. The women and children lent
their aid, the latter running unconcerned to and fro while the arrows
fell fast around them, bearing water to the thirsty combatants. The
saints were believed to be aiding their efforts, and the army,
impressed with this idea, surmounted difficulties under which a force
thrice as numerous, but without their faith, would have quailed and
been defeated. Raymond of Toulouse at last forced his way into the city
by escalade, while at the very same moment Tancred and Robert of
Normandy succeeded in bursting open one of the gates. The Turks flew to
repair the mischief, and Godfrey of Bouillon, seeing the battlements
comparatively deserted, let down the drawbridge of his moveable tower,
and sprang forward, followed by all the knights of his train. In an
instant after, the banner of the Cross floated upon the walls of
Jerusalem. The crusaders, raising once more their redoubtable war-cry,
rushed on from every side, and the city was taken. The battle raged in
the streets for several hours, and the Christians, remembering their
insulted faith, gave no quarter to young or old, male or female, sick
or strong. Not one of the leaders thought himself at liberty to issue
orders for staying the carnage, and if he had, he would not have been
obeyed. The Saracens fled in great numbers to the mosque of Soliman,
but they had not time to fortify themselves within it ere the
Christians were upon them. Ten thousand persons are said to have
perished in that building alone.
Peter the Hermit, who had remained so long under the veil of neglect,
was repaid that day for all his zeal and all his sufferings. As soon
as the battle was over, the Christians of Jerusalem issued forth from
their hiding-places to welcome their deliverers. They instantly
recognized the Hermit as the pilgrim who, years before, had spoken to
them so eloquently of the wrongs and insults they had endured, and
promised to stir up the princes and people of Europe in their behalf.
They clung to the skirts of his garments in the fervour of their
gratitude, and vowed to remember him for ever in their prayers. Many of
them shed tears about his neck, and attributed the deliverance of
Jerusalem solely to his courage and perseverance. Peter afterwards held
some ecclesiastical office in the Holy City, but what it was, or what
was his ultimate fate, history has forgotten to inform us. Some say
that he returned to France and founded a monastery, but the story does
not rest upon sufficient authority.
The grand object for which the popular swarms of Europe had forsaken
their homes was now accomplished. The Moslem mosques of Jerusalem were
converted into churches for a purer faith, and the mount of Calvary and
the sepulchre of Christ were profaned no longer by the presence or the
power of the infidel. Popular frenzy had fulfilled its mission, and, as
a natural consequence, it began to subside from that time forth. The
news of the capture of Jerusalem brought numbers of pilgrims from
Europe, and, among others, Stephen Count of Chartres and Hugh of
Vermandois, to atone for their desertion; but nothing like the former
enthusiasm existed among the nations.
Thus then ends the history of the first Crusade. For the better
understanding of the second, it will be necessary to describe the
interval between them, and to enter into a slight sketch of the history
of Jerusalem under its Latin kings, the long and fruitless wars they
continued to wage with the unvanquished Saracens, and the poor and
miserable results which sprang from so vast an expenditure of zeal, and
so deplorable a waste of human life.